


The Profit/Loss Ratio

by SaltCastle



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Gaping, Anal Sex, Ass to Mouth, Cunnilingus, Double Penetration in Two Holes, F/M, Face-Fucking, Facials, Fingerfucking, Forced Orgasm, Loss of Virginity, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-05-28 18:35:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19400002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaltCastle/pseuds/SaltCastle
Summary: Josephine makes a deal.





	The Profit/Loss Ratio

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sevens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sevens/gifts).



> I had a blast writitng it! I hope you, Dear Recipient, will have at least half of a blast reading it. Thanks for inspiring prompts and happy Nonconathon! <3

It would be worth it. Not now, probably not tomorrow or the day after, but ultimately—yes, it would be worth it.

Josephine swallowed as a hand guided her head down, onto the desk. Bent over, cool, smooth wood under her cheek, she could see her papers scattered around, financial calculations and letters and memos for Leliana and the Herald she hadn’t found the time to deliver earlier in the evening. Now they would have to wait until morning, suspended between Josephine’s intent and other people’s action.

Josephine was trying to find a point of suspension within herself, a hook to hang her mind and shield it from the reality of what was happening to her. But the hands on her thighs were calloused and rough, the sound of ripping clothes loud enough to startle her, and she was very much present in the room adjacent to the chantry’s nave she’d claimed for her office where she was being raped.

Where she was allowing for the rape to occur, she stressed to herself. She was letting it happen, for the good of the Inquisition, still so new and fragile and needing every assistance and protection she could—

Two fingers thrust into her, thick, meaty fingers used like a weapon, knobbly knuckles and not-blunt-enough nails. She bit her lip and tasted blood.

“Maker,” the man behind her said, “but you are tight.” He slid out his fingers by an inch or so and pushed them in again, deeper.

He had a name; Josephine very pointedly didn’t think about it or about the fact that she knew it. Or the reason why she knew it.

She ignored the man’s words and tried to ignore his fingers. Her eye, the one not smushed by her cheek pressed into the desk, caught the name Hinterlands in the document by her nose and she focused on that. They needed to fund another camp there. The area was simply too big for the Inquisition to try to hold it with the resources they’d transferred there so far, and they had to— But she couldn’t hold onto her thoughts.

The fingers inside her were moving. They were moving and Josephine needed to breathe through it and focus on something else (the lost food supply caravan? The Chargers’ contract?) and prevail because it wasn’t about to get any better—

The fingers stopped. The man made some kind of inquisitive noise and withdrew them, then prodded her with just one, slipped in quickly and to the point.

“Fuck,” he said in an awed whisper. “You are a virgin.”

Josephine closed her eyes. She had hoped he would just… put his cock inside her and fuck her and let her go, never noticing anything meaningful about her at all. She should have known better. Her teachers had often reminded her the world was unlikely to mold itself according to her wishes. She should have paid them more attention. 

The man slid his finger out of her, but before Josephine’s mind really registered it, he started circling the opening of her vagina with it. She felt it, in her cunt and low in her belly, the nerve endings coming to life in the wake of his light touch, dimming the previous hurt—and somehow amplifying it by magnitudes. She shuddered and felt sick.

“I guess I just didn’t expect it,” the man continued, clearly amused by her body’s reaction. “So far away from home for so long and yet on your best behavior.” The circling stopped. “Your father must be so proud.”

It shocked her so much she tried to push herself upright even though it made her cunt rub against the man’s hand. Not missing a beat, his two fingers found her clit and pinched. She yelped, a hand came hard between her shoulder blades and pushed her onto the desk once more, then settled on the back of her neck. “I didn’t say you could move.”

“Don’t bring Father into this,” Josephine said into the wood. It came out pleading. Startled, she realized she was crying.

The man laughed. “Oh, but I’m not going to just forget you’re your father’s daughter.” He pinched her clit again, hard, and dragged his hand back, his fingers moving between her folds slow like tar. “In fact, your being your father’s daughter is what makes what I’ll do to you so much sweeter.” Curling his fingers, he pushed two protruding knuckles against her cunt until it gave in and opened for him. 

She wanted to say something, but before she could, the door creaked. She stilled, imagining what she must look like right now, bent over her own desk by a man thirty years her senior, clothes ripped, his hand between her legs. She could call for help, she supposed. Claim she was assaulted. It was almost true.

She’d rather die. She’d rather die than be discovered like that.

The door closed and steps resounded in the room, heavy but unarmored. Could be a scout, although a member of the Inquisition’s forces would already cause a commotion. A servant would possibly apologize and retreat; Leliana would kill him on the spot. It wasn’t anyone who knew her. Small mercies. Still, when the steps halted not far inside the room, she expected to be released, to hear excuses tumbling from the mouth of the man caught holding her down or to be forced to offer her own explanation. She was Josephine Montilyet; she used words like smoke and diverted attention with smallest gestures of her hands. She _would_ come out of this situation with her reputation intact if she got an opportunity to present the facts.

Or rather, if she got an opportunity to present lies as facts. 

Be that as it may. She’d worked with less. She’d succeeded with less.

No excuses were offered. Instead, a third and, immediately after it, a fourth knuckles were pressed into her alongside the first two. Not a very deep penetration, but, Maker’s breath, they were broad where they rested just inside her cunt. Unpalatable. Josephine bit back a whimper. The man behind her noticed and patted her on the neck like a child needing reassurance. “Try to relax,” he advised her, calm and collected. To the newcomer he said, “You sure took your sweet time.” 

“I do offer my sincerest apologies,” a male voice replied with a hint of sarcasm. Strange accent. Perhaps a Nevarran who’d left home a very long time ago. “Some inept half-wits moved our horses to another stable without telling me. I had to walk around looking for them like an idiot.” He didn’t sound fazed by the scene in front of him at all.

Maybe it wasn’t the first time. Maybe he was used to seeing half-naked women bent over desks by his… whatever they were to each other. Better this way, Josephine reasoned with herself. Better if he thought of her as another tavern wench, fucked and sent on her way with a coin in hand. He’d forget her before morning and with time, she’d forget all about him, too.

The man behind her tsked. “I am _so_ disappointed in the way this place is run. I rather think some chastisement is in order. Don’t you agree, Serge?” Not waiting for an answer, he twisted his hand in a corkscrew motion, stretching her out, out, out, beyond imagining. Shock locked her muscles and she clenched on the knuckles moving inside her with a quiet cry.

They seemed to like it. The newcomer— _Serge_ —moved closer, presumably better to see. The hand holding her down squeezed her neck harder. The one in her cunt pushed in deeper, moved sharper, quicker, like a battering ram. More of it was slipping in until she had a fist in her cunt.

Or half of it, anyway. The widest part, just below the knuckles, pressed at her opening from the inside and stilled, plugging her up.

Josephine tried breathing through it. Eyes shut tight, mouth open, she panted and panted and panted until her muscles relaxed one by one. “Good girl. Doesn't a hand in your cunt feel nice?”

She burst into tears.

The fist pulled out. “Please,” she whispered, opening her eyes. Serge was standing by her head, probably close enough to touch, certainly close enough to have an excellent view of her naked ass. “Please, don’t—” He put something on the desk behind her head; glass tinkled, drowning out her voice. 

She didn’t try speaking again. She was Josephine Montilyet and for the first time in her life, her words didn’t matter at all. 

Fear uncoiled inside her like a snake. 

Think past it, Josephine. Focus on breathing. Exhale, inhale, exhale again. 

On her second inhale, the man behind her thrust three fingers up her cunt. It took them easily, stretched as it was. No pain. No pain at all, but Josephine _felt_ them, which was perhaps worse. They brushed something inside her. Her toes curled, her hips twitched, her thighs shivered. She groaned. 

She clamped her teeth as soon as the sound escaped her, but not fast enough. Both men chuckled, a delighted little laugh more suited to a tea party with one’s elderly aunt. The one fingering her said, “Isn’t she precious? I told you she was precious.”

Serge laughed, coming into her field of vision. He took off his leather glove and traced her cheekbone, gathering her tears under his fingertip. “Well, you didn’t tell she was so very much my type, Matt.” 

And here it was, the name she’d been trying so hard to avoid. An unbidden image came to her mind. Kind eyes, wrinkles around mouth, a scar on his cheek Father had forbidden her to ask about. Political discussions lasting well into the night. How he praised her achievements. How he valued her opinions.

All lies.

“Make her make that sound again,” Serge urged him.

He complied.

Another crooked finger pressed into her roughly, then a thumb, knuckle catching on the rim of her hole. This time pain jolted her and she groaned because of a different reason, low in her throat. They didn’t care about the impetus behind the sound. One of them swore; she wasn’t sure who. Maybe Serge. She hoped it was Serge. He put his fingers on her lips, then pushed them inside her mouth and rested them on her tongue. Matt—Matías, Father's best friend—laughed. “Yeah, that too. Later.” He spread his knuckles wide and twisted them inside her, then twisted again and again and again, working her cunt like a terrible, cruel, self-repeating spell.

She felt swollen down there, oversensitive and aching. Every touch was a hurt, but beyond that hurt heat simmered, pooling in her clit and in her lower belly and in her nipples, and even flooded by shame as she was, she couldn’t keep herself from moaning around the fingers in her mouth.

She wanted to never lift her head from the desk and face the men in the room. She wanted to never face her reflection in a mirror. She wanted to go back in time and say no, no, no, the Inquisition needs the money, but not like that, I won’t, Matías, how could you even proposition me so.

The fingers moved from her abused hole to her clit. They were rough but also slick—and she knew it wasn’t oil, it wasn’t anything artificial, just the irrefutable proof of how they were making her feel, of her excitement—rubbing her as she sometimes rubbed herself before falling asleep, circling motions and just the right amount of pressure.

She whimpered, muscles spasming, legs trembling, fire in her belly, fire in her cunt, fire under her skin all over. Her hair was drenched with sweat and Serge slid his fingers out of her mouth and swept one strand from her forehead, gently, almost sweetly, like a lover would. He tucked it behind her ear. “You’re so beautiful like that,” he said. “I could watch you get fucked all day.”

A thumb flicked over her clit, then a finger joined it and they pinched and twisted, twisted and pinched, pinched, pinched, _pinched_. She tried to think no, no, no, it’s Matías doing this to me, I can’t, but in the end she couldn’t think of anything much at all. Tension built and peaked and crashed, and Josephine came with a cry, blood roaring in her ears, the men’s laughter exploding around her like a dam during a flood.

Her body shook. Her knees wouldn’t support her even if she wanted to stand. She didn’t. She wanted to hide.

She wanted to go back in time, not only to the moment earlier during the evening when she’d agreed to the deal, believing she knew what she was getting into and could handle it. She wanted to go further back, to the day she and Leliana had talked, laughing, about men, and women, and sex, and Leliana had made her say cock, cunt, hole, prick, pussy, come, orgasm until the words had felt natural in her mouth. “It’s better to know about these things beforehand,” her friend had insisted. “It’s better to be prepared.”

Right now, splayed on her desk like a sacrifice for an unforgiving god, Josephine would rather not know anything. Knowledge was overrated. Anticipating the hurt made it worse.

Her pulse was beginning to slow down, the rush of blood in her ears subsiding, the room, and reality, coming back into focus. _Matías_. His hand had disappeared from between her legs, but she heard his voice, still behind her.

“Imagine my surprise. After so many years in Val Royeaux!”

Serge was laughing close by. “That was a good show for a virgin, moaning like a cheap whore getting rammed behind the barracks by a squad of drunks.”

Josephine shut her eyes tight. People disparaged her often. She was young, she was a woman, and yes, attractive enough to be considered dumb until she proved them wrong. But she did prove them wrong, more often than not. Something stirred in her. A spark, a flash of anger. No. _No_. She was Josephine Montilyet and she wouldn’t allow such treatment. They could fuck her if they wanted to, she’d agreed to a fuck. But this— No.

Opening her eyes, she bent her arm at the elbow and moved to push herself up. One of the men propelled her down with an almost casual shove between her shoulder blades. The other—at least she thought it was the other—put his hands on her ass and spread her cheeks.

The fight left her. She whimpered, hating herself.

“Going somewhere, Josephine?” Matías asked.

“The party has only just begun,” Serge added. “It would be rude to leave now. And Matt here was just telling me what a proper young lady you are, too.”

He was leering. She could hear leer in his voice. Her stomach turned.

Matías massaged her ass, circling motions hiding and exposing her holes. “I was also telling him you are a virgin. Did you catch it? You seemed a little… distracted.”

Josephine’s face burned. She couldn’t tell whether it was because of Matías’s words or the display he was making of her intimate parts. She’d thought she was resigned to her fate, and yet— And yet.

Serge walked around the desk, patted her head and ran a finger across the breadth of her shoulders. “Don’t listen to him, sweetheart. He’s a bit disgruntled he won’t get to shove his cock up your cunt.” Josephine lifted her head. What? “I don’t blame him.”

It was the first time she got a good look at Serge’s face. He was handsome. In a slightly disheveled, old-soldier-fresh-from-war way, but there was no other word for it. If they met under different circumstances, she’d think of him as handsome. She’d maybe want… Serge laughed. “Don’t look at me with these big eyes. His words, not mine.”

Josephine’s head turned, fast as a whip. When Matías saw her staring, he gave her a slap and leaned forward, resting against her thighs and ass. His stomach was taut and hard despite his age, but oh, was he heavy. She couldn’t breathe under him.

“Josephine, exactly how long have I known your father?”

When she didn’t respond, he pinched her. “Thirty five years, I believe,” she said, digging her fingers into the desk. She didn’t want to think about his relationship with her father and her family.

Matías shrugged. “A little bit more than that, but yes. He’s like a brother to me.” He smiled. His teeth gleamed. “Do you really think I would deflower his daughter and ruin her marriage prospects?”

Up until an hour ago she hadn’t thought so, no. She hadn’t though he’d do anything morally wrong at all. Or anything against her will.

Hope bubbled in her throat. She wanted to swear to him that no one would ever learn of what had transpired in this room. That his promise of financial support for the Inquisition would be rendered null and void with no harm to his honor whatsoever. That as soon as he let her go, Josephine would forget about his offer _and_ his actions. 

He licked his thumb and put it to her asshole, pressing lightly on the ring of muscles. It fluttered under his touch. “Luckily, you have two holes down here.”

This time shock didn’t make her freeze. She thrashed. Tried to, at least. Serge was there immediately, though, easily pushing her down, flattening her against the desk once more. She tried to strike him; he pinned her arms against her sides and half-lay on the upper part of her body, immobilizing her completely with her face pressed into his crotch. He was hard, the smell made her gag, and still Josephine kicked, hoping to land a hit.

Matías caught her by the ankle, bent her leg and shoved it onto the desk, the edge of it cutting sharply into her shin. She let out a startled cry that she almost couldn’t hear; Serge atop her muffled most noises. There was some fumbling behind, or so she thought. A drip of something cold and oily landed between her asscheeks. She tensed. More fluid, quickly spread onto her hole. A finger pierced her; it didn’t slow nor stop until it went all the way in. It rested there, fat and knobbly at the same time, before pulling out. Josephine felt every inch of it, both ways. 

And then it was fucking her. It was fucking with quick jabs, and she was screaming inside her head, litany of half-formed nos and don’ts echoing inside her skull. Neither stopped for a long time.

Or maybe not so long, after all, because when the finger slid out of her for the final time, replaced by a cock, larger, hotter, and with a blunter tip, Josephine thought it would tear her apart, even if a few moments ago she’d felt fucked wide open.

She hoped to pass out. With almost no air left to breathe, trapped under Serge, aching all over, it wasn’t even too ridiculous a hope, but the pressure on her hole was too steady, and her body began to yield. The stretch burned, cockhead catching on her rim, pressing, pressing, always pressing, until it breached her and Matías—whom she had called an uncle as a child; whom she’d called a dear friend as an adult—was inside her.

He stopped, moved back, moved forward, an inch further, two, out. He pushed immediately in again, her hole stretching out, swallowing the head and maybe two more inches of his cock. It won’t go any further, Josephine thought, frantic. It won’t, it will break me.

Matías slid out, spit inside her, and slammed into her body with full force. She howled into the fabric of Serge’s clothes, muscles locking so violently she almost buckled him off of her, pain flaring up. She thought it would never end. She couldn’t _imagine_ it ending, but on the slow, long glide of the cock inside her, it simmered down to ache, to burn. Josephine forced herself to relax her muscles. 

By the time Matías bottomed out, all strength sapped out of her, her hole accommodated him fully, and she lay on the desk lax and limp, unmoving.

Serge pushed himself off of her with a grunt. “I don’t think she’ll cause us any more trouble.”

Air filled her lungs and she gasped, sounds rushing into her ears on the exhale. Matías was panting above her, like a dog. Like a dog mating with a bitch. He tangled his fingers in her hair, loosened a few hairpins and tugged hard, forcing her neck to arch, her body slamming into his, jostling the cock inside. She whimpered. Serge bowed down in front of her, framing her face with his hands and planting a kiss on her lips, then another and another, pushing his tongue inside her mouth as Matías forced himself into her time and time again.

She was kissed thoroughly and she was fucked thoroughly, in a steady rhythm, cock gliding in and out of her ass. At one point Matías let go of her hair and put his hands on her hips; she was hoping he was about to come, but he only changed the angle a little, driving into her deeper and sharper. Serge kissed her through that, kissed her wet and filthy, tongue seemingly in every part of her mouth at the same time, and every time he dove in again after releasing her for a breath or two, she tasted more and more of her tears on his lips.

Still, he was a very good kisser. She would enjoy kissing him at a ball or in a shaded garden in Val Royeaux before— Before.

Finally, Matías groaned. Serge took a step back as Josephine rested her head on the desk and took it. She took all of the fucking, and all of the filthy names Matías called her, and the bite to her shoulder when he shook and shook and shook, cock twitching inside her.

At least she didn’t feel come filling her up, but she knew she was marked inside and out anyway. It was done. Matías did it to her, but it was done.

“Fuck,” he said. “It was great.” He rolled his hips, but she felt nothing.

Serge snorted. “It seems dreams sometimes come true even at your age.”

Josephine took his words as well, and the kiss to the shoulder after them. He was still hard and still hadn’t taken his cock out of his pants. She hoped it meant he wasn’t going to rape her, too, but at the same time she almost didn’t care. There wasn't much worse they could do to her. She waited for Matías to pull out.

He didn’t.

He plastered himself along her back instead, kissed her neck, licked the place he’d bitten before, fondled her hips. He’d left bruises, Josephine knew. They would take a long time to fade. 

Matías found her breast and squeezed it through the fabric. Did it hurt? She couldn’t tell. And then he said: “Yes, it was great. I think I’ll have another go right now.”

Impossible. He was old. He couldn’t get hard again so soon, could he?

Serge handed him something from the pouch he’d left on the desk earlier. He winked at Josephine. “You have no idea what you can buy in Val Royeaux if you know where to look, sweetheart.”

Matías uncorked the bottle. Presumably, he drank from it because in one moment Josephine felt sore but empty, and the next—stretched and full of cock. She groaned in pain. He groaned as well and rolled his hips, and rolled them again until her toes curled. “Here we go,” he said. “Here we go.”

It was more brutal this time, rougher and quicker, and if she thought he would finish sooner because of it, she was wrong. Matías was putting his back into it, hips snapping, balls slapping against her ass with every shove, cock sliding smoothly in and out of her. It was his come, Josephine realized. He'd spilled inside her and it made for an easy, pleasant fuck for him, no resistance from her body at all. She shuddered. He pushed into her unthinkably deep and stayed there. “I want to feel her squeeze around my cock,” he panted out. “I want to feel her squirm on it. I want her to come.”

“She won’t from a dick in her ass,” Serge replied. “Most women can’t.”

“I know. Make her come.”

Serge laughed, already moving. “You and your impossible demands. You’re lucky I like you.”

“You like eating cunts out.”

Serge disappeared below the desk, but he emerged soon after. “No, can’t this way. Too cramped.”

“The chair,” Matías suggested. “Let’s do it on the chair.”

Josephine’s heart had jumped to her throat and was beating there wildly. Listening to the scraping of the legs of her chair on the stone floor, she wanted to move, but couldn’t, her arms too heavy, her legs made of clay. When Matías stepped back, yanking her with him, and sat on the chair, she sat in his lap, her own weight pulling her down onto his cock. It went in deeper than before and she screamed in pain, but Matías’s hand was there, pressing onto her mouth and covering the sound. “Hurts,” she tried to say against his skin, but ended up mumbling incoherently.

Her cunt, her ass, her lower belly were an epicenter of pain.

Serge clasped her hands and put them on the armrests. “Support you weight, Josephine,” he said. “It’ll be easier.”

It was uncomfortable; her clothes were cut in the back but got twisted in the front, squeezing her arms, restraining her movement, pressing on her breasts. She managed, though, and it did get better.

Matías’s hands settled on her neck and waist like a vice. Serge came back with a knife, cut off her sleeves and tossed the fabric away. Josephine gripped the armrests tighter, knuckles whitening as he cut off the lower half of her clothes as well, baring her legs and her cunt.

“Please,” she said. “Please, don’t, I don’t want to—” 

He kneeled in front of her.

She’d thought she had no more tears left in her after Matías fucked her raw on the desk, but she cried when Serge detangled her legs from the bundled cloth and spread them wide, eyes never leaving her cunt, tongue darting out to wet his lips. She cried when Matías let go of her waist and neck and hooked his arms under her knees, keeping her in place. Freed, she tried to curl up on herself, but that changed the angle of the cock inside her. It pierced her deep again, and she cried out, straightening, elbows locking immediately to hold her up.

“What did I say?” Serge chastised her, moving her hands a little to better prop her up.

Matías said at the same time, “If someone walks in on you in this position, your reputation will never recover.”

It was the truth, so when Serge spread her folds and dragged the flat of his tongue across her clit, she kept her whimper down.

Serge began licking her in earnest, from the rim of her asshole to the nub of her clit. From Matías’s panting in her ear, growing more excited with every sweep of Serge’s tongue, she guessed Serge was licking the base of his cock, too, or his balls before moving onto her flesh.

It was quite horrible and disgusting, saliva slick and thick and foul where it dripped onto her and stuck to her cunt. Josephine didn’t want this. She didn’t.

Her clit was pulsing under Serge’s tongue. Every lick, every little circling motion woke up a new set of nerves under her skin. Her nipples were hard and straining against the fabric still squeezing her breasts. The cock in her was thick and hot and the stretch—the stretch felt good. She was wet deep inside and not because of Serge’s spit.

Josephine bit her lips bloody. She cried, but she did not sob. She moaned under her breath. She lost track of time.

Serge sucked her clit between his teeth. He started teasing it with his tongue, applying a bit of pressure here, a smooth lick there, and to her horror and utter humiliation, Josephine noticed she was moving her hips, pushing her cunt up and into his face.

Matías let go of her knees. “Keep your legs spread,” he said. Josephine’s reply was a low, long moan. He slid his hands under her ass. Serge did the same, nudging his nose into her folds and sucking harder.

He and Matías together began to rock her, up and down, not much, but enough. At this point the cock in her ass was teasing her more than anything, gliding and jerking inside her stretched, well-fucked hole. Her arms were starting to strain, but Serge’s tongue moved quicker and his lips sucked harder and Josephine tilted her hips, sparks shooting up her spine from the dick shoved into her, from the teeth on her clit, from the way Matías breathed a reverend “Fuck” into her ear.

She came. And she passed out.

~*~

She woke up in the middle of the room, completely naked and laid out on her back with her legs spread. Her ass and cunt hurt, her knee hurt, her back hurt. Serge was standing above her with his eyes locked on her face and his cock out, jerking himself off. He was so huge his fingers didn’t close around his girth and he had to use the palm of his hand to rub his red and swollen cockhead on the upstroke. He groaned and sped up when he saw Josephine open her eyes. She quickly turned her head away from him, but when she tried curling up her legs and rolling onto her side, a sharp jolt of pain shot up from deep inside her. She stilled with a quiet whine.

“That would be a dildo in your ass,” Matías said, out of her sight.

“That’s an artificial cock,” Serge said on a pant. “If you don’t know.”

Josephine did. Leliana had educated her thoroughly. She’d even shown Josephine her collection. Toys, she’d called them. So harmless.

“Well, she does now. I bet she can feel it in her throat. I wouldn’t swing those lovely hips if I were you, Josie. It’s quite big.”

She felt it, then. How her rim stretched. How the thing prodded her insides, touching her deeper that Matías had. How round and bulky the tip of it was. She reached down between her legs to pull it out. Serge fell to his knees by her side, caught her wrist and squeezed. “Don’t even think of it,” he warned her.

Her lips trembled. She understood power. She understood sex, or the idea behind it at the very least, even if she’d never experienced it with another person. What she didn’t understand was this casual ruthlessness, done almost without cruelty and with no humanity at all. She wanted to ask them about it.

Before she could, Serge grabbed her by her jaw and turned her face toward him. Josephine thinned her lips and clenched her teeth, resolute not to open her mouth. But Serge didn’t try to feed her his cock; he just held her in place and jerked off with quick strokes, once, twice, thrice. His back went rigid and a sticky splash of fluid hit Josephine just below the outer corner of her right eye. She shut them on reflex, too shocked to even whine. Second spurt painted her other cheek. Third and fourth followed, guided by Serge’s hand, less copious but enough to leave sticky drops wherever he wished them to land.

When he was spent, he wiped his hand and cock in Josephine’s hair and whistled. “Damn. This look suits you.” He let go of her jaw. “Matt, come look! She’s a sight to behold.”

Josephine heard steps approaching and tried to turn her face away from them. Serge stopped her with a finger pressing on the side of her nose. His hand smelled of cock and come. Or maybe it was her face. “None of this, sweetheart. Don’t be shy.”

One of them touched the toe of his boot to her ribcage. Matías, she suspected. “Open your eyes, Josephine,” he said. “You’re being very rude.” As if he was berating a child. “I was going to fuck you dry, you know. Just… spread you on top of that desk of yours and pump your ass full of come until you couldn’t take even a drop more of it. But Serge here really likes it when women squirm under him, so you got to come. Twice. Be grateful.” He nudged her harder. She gasped and, afraid he was going to kick her, opened her eyes.

Matías had stripped off his pants and his naked shins were sticking out pale and hairy from the calves of his boots right in front of her. Farther up, he was still half-hard, his cock jutting out from the opening of his shirt, his balls hanging heavy below. She didn’t want to look at it, but when she glanced at his face, she saw an unsatiated hunger there and had to avert her eyes.

She couldn’t take more, but it seemed they had plenty more to give her.

Serge touched her cheek gently. “She’s doing just fine, Matt. Don’t be so harsh on her.” He then dragged his fingers through the cooling come on her skin and smeared it across her lips. With two fingers, he scooped some leftovers from her cheek and pushed them inside her mouth. He pressed on her tongue until she swallowed around them, gagging on the taste, too foul to describe. Bile rose in her throat. Serge patted her neck. “There. Your reward. You’re all better now.” He stood up, tucking himself in. “Well, that got me thirsty. You coming to the tavern?”

Josephine didn’t dare hope. Rightly so, as Matías didn’t move. “Nah. I was thinking of taking a break, but she does indeed look too lovely for that.”

“Suit yourself,” Serge said and closed the door behind him.

Matías, knees on both sides of her head, straddled her chest. He hadn’t put his whole weight on her; she could breathe, but his thighs crushing her shoulders rendered her arms useless and his cock was inching closer and closer to her mouth. Josephine shook her head and tried to writhe away from it, pushing at the floor with her heels. Every kick jolted the artificial cock—the _toy_ —inside her, sending waves of shocks across her body. She didn’t care. No. “No, please, no, no, no,” she begged, sobbing. Tears mixed with come on her face and dripped into her hair. “Please don’t.” She buckled, hard, and achieved nothing. “Please don’t put it in my mouth.” She tried once more, failed once more.

Matías laughed. “I offered a lot of money to the Inquisition, Josephine. Do you really think you are so special I get to put my dick in you once, pull it out once, and we’re done? That you already earned every last andris I’m going to spend on you?” He reached behind his back, found her breast and squeezed hard.

Pain shocked her into stillness and she looked at his face with wide open eyes, dry heaving. “It was— It was—”

“Yes, Josephine? Where was it?”

She blushed and whispered: “In my ass.”

He tsked. “Such language, Josephine. You should be ashamed of yourself.” He wasn’t getting up. He wasn’t getting up and she didn’t care about anything else. She twisted and turned with renewed strength, making the dildo move and stretch her ass wider and slide half an inch further. She ignored it. She had to throw Matías off her. She had to.

A slap across her cheek, not even a strong one. A hand tangling in her hair, bending her neck so far she looked at the world upside down. How fitting.

Matías brought his face to her ear. His cock was brushing her chin. “I like it when they fight. It turns me on.” He rolled his hips and the cock caught on the corner of her mouth. “Come on, Josephine. Make me more excited.”

She stilled. Just like before, on the desk, when she’d let him use her ass as long as he’d wanted to. She’d taken it without a fight and she wouldn’t fight now.

She would never fight him again.

Her neck twitched and he let go of her hair, leaning away on his hunches. She wet her lips. “Why? Why are you doing this to me?”

He shrugged. “Because I want to. Because you have amazing tits and sweet ass and equally sweet cunt, I bet, and it’s a travesty they wither away without proper appreciation. Because you think you’re better than anyone else and nobody told you yet that you’re just a stupid, naïve girl, playing at politics and diplomacy. Whoring would suit you much better. It’s so much easier. ” He put the tip of his cock to her lips. “Don’t worry, though. I’ll make a proper whore out of you yet. Open up.”

She did.

His cock slipped past her lips. It was leaking and maybe it was a good thing. This way Josephine could only taste come. His hips jerked. Another inch in. Another two. “Wider,” Matías said. Her jaw wasn’t made to work this way, but he didn’t stop, pushing his flesh across the length of her tongue, and she opened up for him.

He was moving with his cock, leaning forward until he was on all fours above her now and buried so deep she couldn’t breathe. He froze in this position for a few long seconds. Against her will, she panicked, her vision swimming. She needed air, she needed— He pulled back. Josephine gasped and breathed around the girth filling her mouth. “It’ll be easier if you breathe through your nose,” Matías said and snapped his hips. “At least when you can,” he added and pushed into her throat.

He fucked her face with long strokes, his cockhead sometimes cutting off her air, sometimes simply resting on the back of her tongue. Matías kept talking. “Figured you wouldn’t have much experience with it.” Thrust. “Just let me—” Thrust. Thrust. Balls slapping her chin. Thrust. Rest. Panting noises, cock jerking on her tongue. Saliva dripped out of the corners of her mouth and down her jaw. She’d put her hands on the back of his thighs. She couldn’t even tell when she’d done it, but they were there now, his skin underneath them warm and alive, keeping her grounded. She wasn’t pulling him in, but if someone saw them now… They would think she wanted to have his cock down her throat, enjoyed it, liked it. That’s how it looked. That’s how she looked. A perfect slut.

Her clit twitched. Her face burned in shame and she dug her fingers into Matías' flesh. “Yes,” he hissed above her, speeding up. “Yes. You’re learning.” She groaned. He seemed to like it, demanded she do it again. So she did. She moaned, he thrust. He thrust, she moaned. They were in absolute harmony.

He came on her tongue, not in her throat. “For the maximum experience,” he said and made her swallow and, a few moments later, hollow her cheeks and suck him dry, lick him base to tip and tip to base, and then his balls, too. That’s how Serge found them.

“Having fun without me?” he asked, coming closer to look at Josephine’s tongue working Matías’s sack. “I brought you dinner.”

~*~

She watched them eat at her desk, dripping fat and spilling wine on her paperwork. She didn’t try to move, to pull the toy out of her ass, to cover herself or even clean dried come off her face. She was numb except for the throbbing in her cunt and the pulling in her ass, stretching wider and wider on the dildo.

Cutlery clinked. The men talked. Outside a door closed with a bang. Josephine waited.

Matías rounded off his meal with another sip from the bottle. He was fully erect before he crossed the room, his cock bobbing with ever step he took toward Josephine. “On your knees and hands.”

She tried to obey. It took some effort because she was weak and her arms kept giving in under her weight and her knees scraped on the stone floor and it hurt. Finally, she managed, resting her forehead on her crossed wrists and pushing her ass as high as it would go. Serge whistled. “Someone’s eager. What did you do to her?” He cupped her ass with both hands. Josephine shivered.

“What one does to sluts like her,” Matías replied, walking around her. “I fucked her face until she forgot anything beside the taste of my cock.” He came to a halt in front of her head. “And then I fucked her some more.”

Toes of his boot were caked with mud. Josephine saw them clearly, every speckle, every crease of worn leather under the dirt. She took a deep breath and gathered her strength and pushed herself up on her arms until she could pull his cock into her mouth.

Matías put a hand on the back of her skull, but he didn’t start fucking her throat as she expected. He simply let her suck his dick, and so she did, not knowing what else she could do.

From behind she could hear the rustle of clothes and then length of another cock was pressed between her asscheeks. For a moment she was afraid Serge would try to put his cock inside her hole alongside the dildo, and her rhythm faltered, but he seemed content to just let it rest it there, white-hot.

Matías had grown so hard inside her mouth it was like sucking on a stone.

He pulled back and off, slipping from her mouth with a filthy sound. “Very nice, Josephine,” he complimented her, pressing his thumb to the corner of her mouth. “What do the Orlesians call it these days? Proactive?” Serge snorted. His cock twitched against her ass. “But, you see, I already fucked your face. I own your mouth now, just as I own your ass.” The words sparked a glimmer of shame in her, but it flickered out and died before she could form a coherent thought about it. “Now I want your cunt.”

She thought she'd expected it, but a whine coming from her throat proved otherwise. Matías tipped her head by her chin and looked her in the eye. “I know I said I wouldn’t. I lied.”

Serge shoved his fingers into her vagina, four of them at once. It jerked her forward and Matías had to steady her by her shoulders. She rested her face against his thigh and opened herself to another hurt.

“She’s wet, I won’t lie,” Serge informed them, as if Josephine hadn’t already known that. Hadn’t felt slick and aching inside. “But I think we should bring her off before anyway.”

“Of course you do,” Matías said, resigned but strangely warm. “Fine, let’s do it your way.” He sat down on the floor. “But only because I really want to play with her tits.”

They maneuvered her onto his lap, her legs framing his narrow hips, his cock resting in the crease of her thighs, twitching and leaving a trickle of precome on her skin as soon as he started biting his way from her neck to her collarbone and further down, where it should have hurt but didn’t. Or maybe it did, but she couldn’t feel it through the throbbing in her cunt.

Serge caressed the outer side of her left breast, then moved onto her nipple, twisting it between his thumb and forefinger. Matías was lapping at the right one. He suckled it into his mouth when it became hard and perky, grazing the nub with his teeth and rolling it against his tongue. Her nipples seemed to be connected to her cunt by an invisible wire because she felt every lick and every twist in her clit, pulsing now like wildfire, alive, begging to be touched. Her ass clenched on the dildo and this time it too brought her pleasure. Her hips bucked. Matías laughed with his mouth pressed firmly into her flesh and bit her nipple hard. Josephine made a sound deep in her throat like she’d never made before, low and needy and so unlike her.

So very much like her, like the version of her here and now.

Serge tore himself away from her breast and she whined. He petted her hair. “You are doing great, sweetheart,” he said. “Really, really great. I need you to touch yourself now.”

She didn’t want to do it in front of them, for them, for their entertainment. She jerked, trying to angle herself away from their bodies, but Matías tugged at her wrist without pausing what his lips were doing to her nipple. He pushed her hand down and put it right between her legs. Josephine’s thumb found her clit. Serge slotted her mouth to hers, keeping her in place with a hand on the back of her neck as he kissed her and kissed her and kissed her. There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide, nothing to do except thumb her clit until an orgasm overtook her.

They made it last, Matías, Serge, the toy in her ass. It was good, too. Overwhelming. Her mind whited out at the end.

She came to her senses with her tongue entangled with Serge’s. Shame, again, spiking at the base of her spine; again not strong enough to do anything about it. She let him plunge her mouth until her body slumped. He pulled away. “She should be ready now.”

She was. She’d got so wet it was dripping out of her. 

“Andraste’s tits, finally,” Matías said, lying down.

Serge removed the dildo then. Come trickled out of her. Her asshole fluttered and stayed open and it should worry her, shouldn’t it, except she felt too empty for that, too cored and turned inside out. They made her push herself up on her knees and stay still as Matías lined himself up. “She’s so wet now I’ll slip right out,” he said when his cock pushed between her folds.

“Bullshit,” Serge replied. He gripped Matías’s shaft, making him groan, and guided him inside, pressing lightly on Josephine’s shoulder. She lowered herself, allowing the cockhead to breach her.

“Fuck,” Matías swore, gripping her waist. He slammed her down, his hips snapped up, and he thrust home.

Serge barely had the time to take his hand away. “Asshole,” he said mildly.

Josephine sat awkwardly on cock. It didn’t hurt. She’d definitely felt her hymen tear, but she was so loose-limbed and lax, so well-fucked already, it didn’t feel much like a violation at all.

They gave her a moment to adjust nonetheless, then ordered her to move. She was clumsy, trying to rise up and down on her knees, rocking her hips back and forth and gyrating them in a circling motion. Matías was playing with her breasts; Serge went back to thumbing her open asshole, running his thumb over her rim, pushing come that was still leaking out of her back inside. Her nipples and hole were oversensitive, but she grit her teeth and bore it, riding Matías and trying to not think at all.

She should’ve known it wouldn’t last.

Matías had grown impatient. He was now fucking into her in earnest, knees bent, feet braced on the floor, hips snapping. Her hips were moving, too, up and down, meeting him halfway. And she _was_ feeling it, the smooth glide of his cock inside, the pressure on her inner walls when the head hit the same spot time and time again. Serge was still behind her, fingering her ass, not letting it to close. It hurt. Her knees hurt, too, and her thighs trembled; she was afraid soon she won’t be able to keep up. When she’d tried slowing down minutes ago, Matías pinched her clit and twisted it, and keep twisting until she sped up again. It was now swollen and aching, sending jolts of electricity every time it brushed against him. 

And still Matías seemed to be waiting for something, fucking her rough, but not rough enough to make himself come. “Serge!” he said, finally, with what she could only describe as a whine in his voice. He shoved the whole length of his cock into her and stilled.

Serge pressed at her back, make her upper body lean in and her ass go up, and thrust his cock into her ass. Matías bucked under her. “Yes,” he moaned. “Fuck, yes, yes.”

Josephine moaned, too, a terrible, pitiful sound no one paid any attention to. Serge kept pushing in, stretching her so wide she was afraid she would tear even as she knew the glide was far too smooth for there to be any danger. Her ass could take it, had been prepared to take it, maybe was made to take it. Matías’s hips were jerking. Their cocks were touching through the thin wall separating her cunt from her ass.

She felt full to bursting.

Serge sheathed himself in. He pulled out completely, slammed in again, rougher and harder and quicker at the same time. Josephine felt it in her toes. Matías was moaning all the time now, fingers gripping her waist so tightly she was sure she would bruise there too. Serge was fucking both of them, her hole taking him in and in and in, their cocks rubbing inside her, twitching as their pleasure built up.

Matías spilled first, shoving himself deep into her as Serge was bottoming out. She’d felt it coming—his muscles were tensing up, his back arching, his cock jerking inside her, and then she felt _him_ come and pump her full of semen, warm, sticky, and disgusting. She shuddered. Serge stilled, giving Matías time to come down from his high, but when he tried moving after some time, Matías shook his head. “Too sensitive.”

Serge hefted Josephine up and when Matías slipped out, he flipped her onto her back, lifted her legs and bent her almost in half. He slammed into her asshole again, so hard her back scraped on the floor as she was pushed like a puppet with its strings cut.

The new angle was deep and terrible and Serge fucked her rough and hard, putting his back into every thrust, the head of his cock catching on her rim every time he was pushing in after pulling out completely, the base stretching her out even more that she’d been stretched before. It seemed impossible, his cock seemed impossible, and Josephine took it all, and when he put his thumb on her clit, he had to only rub at it twice before she came. He pulled out then, groaning, and shoved his cock inside her still clenching vagina, and came, too, filling up her cunt for the second time in five minutes.

He lay on her, panting, then kissed her deep, with tongue, biting her lips before releasing them. “If we are making babies, I wanted my chance, too,” he said and fear tied her stomach in knots as he slipped out of her, patted her knee and turned to straighten his clothes.

She tuned them out, the rustling of fabric and the men’s conversation both, so she jerked hard, caught unawares, where her legs were gripped and lifted and spread as far as they would go. Matías stood between them, looking at her leaking holes. He licked his lips. “Very nice. I'm almost sad to say, Josephine, that I fear I severely overestimated my profit from the last cargo transport. I don’t think I can support the Inquisition, after all.” 

She hadn’t expected anything else. It didn’t matter. It didn’t. She’d made an ill-advised deal and paid the price. All according to the rules. 

Her stupid heart was furled up so tight it would fit on the palm of her hand if she tore it out.

Matías let go of her ankles, reached for his pouch and fished out a golden royal. “But I had a wonderful time with you, never doubt. We must repeat it soon.” He flicked the coin at her cunt. “For your troubles.”

Serge approached with the dildo and placed in between her breasts. “A souvenir, to remember us by.” He winked. She turned her head. They laughed and were laughing still when the door closed behind them and Josephine was left alone, with the memory of that laughter echoing in her head and the memory of their bodies spilling out of her holes.

She thought she wouldn’t be able to move. She didn’t want to move, but she didn’t want to be found like that even more. She kept spare clothes in here, she had a bowl of water and soap, and if it wasn’t enough to clean her up, well. There wasn’t enough water and soap in the world to clean her. Not a reason to not try. 

So she crawled.

She crawled to the wall and dragged herself up by her nails, inch by inch by inch—and toward another day.


End file.
